


Plot Twist

by arainymonday



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arainymonday/pseuds/arainymonday
Summary: Prompt: "Len reading to Barry as Barry finds it hard not to speed read and actually enjoy a book these days :)"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mockingbird_22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbird_22/gifts).



> 1) Thanks to mockingbird-22 on Tumblr for the prompt that contributed 1,174 words to my NaNoWriMo total! You saved my skin one day this month. It is much appreciated.  
> 2) I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with the prompt. It’s definitely vaguely AU which seems to be my specialty lately.  
> 3) Len is reading The Martian by Andy Weir. It’s a phenomenal book (and better than the movie) that I 100% recommend everyone read immediately.  
> 4) I'm also arainymonday on Tumblr. My ask is always open!

The newest member of the Rogues has been hanging around Saints & Sinners for a month now. Len has learned a lot about him. He eats enough to feed a small army, but makes up for it with his superspeed sticky fingers. He talks more than he should, but not about himself. He fidgets like a second grader unless he runs off his energy daily. He puts his tendency to say too much and his nervous energy to good use in bed.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Len looks up from the blueprints he’s studying and fixes Barry with a firm glare. Barry pauses, but soon enough he’s twisting his hands and pacing around the old sofa, touching every item on the workbench and fiddling with the barrel of the cold gun even though Len has told him not to a dozen times.

“Barry!”

“Sorry! I’m bored.”

“Not my fault.”

If Barry had listened to him and not underestimated the crime-fighting gusto of Vibe and Frost, he wouldn’t be cooped up inside the backroom of Saints & Sinners until the heat dies down.

“I know!” Barry sighs dramatically and flops down on the sofa. “The wifi sucks here.”

“Call Comcast. That should keep you occupied for a couple hours.”

Barry shoots him a dirty look. “For real?”

Len jerks his head in the direction of a stack of books under a workbench. Some of them are electrical or mechanical engineering manuals that Hartley references sometimes while working on his tech, but there are a couple novels, bought and paid for from an independent bookstore in Len’s neighborhood, but not yet read.

“You might like a couple of the books.”

Barry releases another dramatic sigh. “I can’t read anymore. Time is wonky when I’m reading. I have to speedread, and that’s worse than being bored.”

Len contemplates the miserable young man sprawled over the sofa. He knows better than to lie to himself. Self-delusion leads to more misery than facing facts. He’s fond of Barry. He genuinely likes the kid for reasons he dislikes so many other people. This whole woe-is-me act, it should grate on Len, but he finds it charming.

“I’m not in the habit of playing the White Knight,” Len says, rising from the worktable. “But I’ll come to your rescue this once.”

“My hero!” Barry gasps.

Barry moves his legs aside so Len can get comfortable on the sofa. They pretend to vie for the same space by knocking each other’s feet out of the way and taking up more room than necessary on the sofa. Barry gives the game away with his grin, Len with the uptick in the corner of his mouth. Eventually, they find their places. Barry reclines against one arm, his legs stretched out and dangling over the edge of the cushions by Len’s waist. Len reclines against the other arm, his legs thrown over the back of the sofa.

Once they’re in their decidedly uncomfortable positions, Len opens the book carefully so he doesn’t bend the cover or break the spine.

“I’m pretty much fucked,” Len reads. “That’s my considered opinion. Fucked.”

Barry manages not to fidget for a surprising length of time, but eventually he gives in. About the time everyone on Earth realizes Mark Watney isn’t dead, Barry decides Len would make a better pillow than the sofa cushion. He marks their place in the book with his finger and glares while Barry takes it upon himself to remove Len’s legs from the back of the sofa and wedge himself between the back cushions and Len.

“I’m not going to be able to read with one arm trapped under you,” Len says.

“I’ll turn the pages for you.”

Len rolls his eyes and extricates his arm. Barry shifts himself around to accommodate, pouting until Len starts reading again. Len isn’t sold on this whole cuddling thing. It’s not a thing he’s done before. But then he reads a joke that delights Barry - (.)(.) - and Barry buries his face in Len’s chest, and it feels like the happiness in his laugh is seeping into Len’s body.

“Oh my God,” Barry wheezes. “This book is incredible.”

“I thought you’d enjoy a book about an astronaut as nerdy as you.”

Barry stops laughing long enough to swipe the tears away from his eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t like science fiction. I’ve heard your Star Wars references. Also, your reaction to finding out about metahumans was to find a costume and a fancy weapon and anoint yourself their nemesis, so.”

Len glares while he clears his throat and draws a breath to start the next chapter.

“Do you need some tea?” Barry interjects. “You’ve been reading for awhile.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want you to ruin your beautiful voice.” A wickedly playful smirk flashes across Barry’s mouth. “You won’t be able to finish reading the book to me.”

“Real nice, Barry.”

Barry leaps off the couch, crawling over Len to do so, and superspeeds over to the counter where a coffeemaker, electric kettle, and mini-fridge serve as a kitchenette. He flips the switch on the kettle and immediately begins twiddling his thumbs.

“This thing takes forever,” he complains.

“It’s been three seconds.”

“We should get a Keurig. You can make all kinds of delicious drinks with K-cups.”

“It would take them all of ten seconds to brew. However would you find the patience?”

Eventually, Barry brings Len a steaming hot mug of chamomile tea with honey. It’s too hot for Len to drink. He sets it on the floor to let it cool. Barry sets himself on Len’s lap. It’s been the start of many exciting and sexy evenings between them, but all Barry seems interested in right now is wrapping his arms around Len and leaning their foreheads together.

“Your voice really is beautiful,” Barry says. “I wish I heard it more often.”

“I don’t say anything if there’s nothing to say.”

“Aren’t there things to say?”

His breath catches uncomfortably. Len is always balancing on a precipice with Barry. If the weight shifts, a free fall is coming. Barry pretends to not notice the tension in Len’s body, picks up the mug of tea from the floor, and pushes it into Len’s hands.

“Like how Mark survives the Hab exploding,” Barry says.

Len feels a rush of gratitude that Barry is okay taking things one step at a time. Even if all the steps are out of order, they make sense to Len. They’re strategic for preventing heartbreak. Len doesn’t lie to himself. If all of this with Barry goes sideways, that’s what will happen.

“Very true,” Len says.

He drinks his tea while Barry decides how they should cuddle on the sofa now. Len makes a few important contributions, like that Barry can’t be the little spoon because Len can’t see the book through his head. They end up on opposite ends of the sofa with their feet tangled together in the middle.

 _I’m pretty much fucked_ , Len thinks. _That’s my considered opinion. Fucked._


End file.
